


The List

by Amymel86



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Drinking, F/M, Second Chapter will be pure smut, king in the north, playfulness, theyre cousins and they know it, two shot fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8885092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Jon has a choice to make... Sansa is one of those choices... but he won't choose her unless she chooses him in turn... that means he needs to talk to her....aka Jon Snow is awkward AF with the ladies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok - fair warning - there's no smut in this chapter but the second will make up for it... I hope!!

Jon ran his finger over the familiar letters on that infernal list once more. The list that now had more names scored through than left available. But it was one name that always begged the attention of his eyes and fingers each time he unfolded the now worn scrap of parchment that Ser Davos had provided almost three moons ago.

The time had come - he knew. This conversation could not be put off for too much longer, the eligible Lords had started to become more forceful with their proposals and sooner or later The King in the North will need to provide the Lady of Winterfell with a list of her own.

So he stands outside her chambers for a while, his own list returned to its rightful place - tucked into the breast pocket of his undershirt, just above his unsure heart. Jon's hand had raised itself to knock upon the heavy wood of her door two or three times and each time he'd faltered and returned his fist to his side.

 _She may already be asleep_. He tells himself as he notes that the noises of merriment from the night's feast had ceased. How late had it become without him noticing? How long had he drawn out his coming here to talk to her?

He holds his breath and knocks, short and firm - and altogether far too ready to retreat back to his own chambers should there be no answer. But there is.

"Jon"! Sansa giggles behind her hand after she had wrenched the door open with perhaps a little too much force, causing her to be slightly unsteady on her feet. Her chambers look to be bathed in honey glow light behind her as she quickly reaches for him, grabbing his forearm and uncharacteristically yanks him inside.

Jon wasn't sure what reception he was going to receive by knocking on her chamber doors so late this night but he had never thought it would be one similar to this. He stands there puzzled as he takes her in. She has already changed for bed and without a robe, stands in front of him in just a shift and barefoot. Sansa giggles once more and if the sight wasn't so obscure to Jon, he would have smiled widely at the sound.

He looked her up and down, careful not to let his eyes turn lecherous should they linger on particular areas.

"Are you not cold my Lady"? His cracked voice manages to croak out.

Sansa draws both her top and bottom rosy lips into her mouth in a mischievous, girlish manner and shakes her head guiltily, causing strands of her lovely fiery locks to come lose from her braid.

Jon notices the flush of her cheeks and the twinkle in her eye and raises a brow in question.

"Tormund gave me two skins of this lovely warming drink... some kind of milk... I don't know... it's lovely" she replies giddily to his silent query.

Jon groans and rubs at his forehead. This is obviously not the right night to discuss anything of importance.

"What's wrong"? Sansa enquired with concern as she crossed the small divide between them and cups his cheek. Jon almost rears his head away from her - the gesture being so unlike his cousin - but he finds he quickly enjoys her softness and she does indeed feel rather warm.

"Nothing... I'm fine" he forces out with a weak smile.

Her eyes study his face for what is probably longer than necessary and wicked smile creeps across her lips. "Drink with me" she demands as she grabs his hand and pulls him over to the hearth.

"I....I really shouldn't Sansa" Jon protests weakly as he's dragged along and shoved unceremoniously into one of the overstuffed armchairs - the action so un-Sansa-like that it makes him chuckle.

After forcing a large tankard of the Wildling drink into his hands she settles in her own chair comfortably with her legs tucked up and to the side. Jon tried not to notice how her shift has ridden up to her knees, exposing some of her long legs - all pearly skin and soft dainty curves.

"Drink up" she implores with a wide grin, tucking some hair behind her ear and raising a hand that grasps her own cup before sipping deeply.

As Jon takes his first gulps he contemplates this Sansa - the Sansa who is warmed by strong drink. She is happy. He'd like for her to be happy more often without the influence of any wine, ale or Wildling milk. Jon's thoughts turn to his list once more. Could he make her happy?

"I know you never wanted it you know" Sansa says from behind her drink, breaking Jon from his own train of thoughts.

"Wanted what"?

"To be King....the crown...it weighs heavy on your head" she replies.

"Aye...there's truth to that" Jon nods.

"But I know what you did want Jon" she says, the light from the fire dancing across her face.

"And what's that my Lady"? He gulps and averts his eyes from hers.

"The same thing you've always wanted... acceptance....and now you have it in spades... from the whole of the bloody North" Sansa shouts merrily, throwing her arms out in a gesture that sends some of her drink sloshing out of her cup. She giggles again and Jon finds that he can't help but join her.

"Perhaps I should be careful what I wish for in future" he jests, looking down into his tankard and then back up at her.

"Yes, perhaps we all should" Sansa says warmly, smiling to herself.

"What do you wish for Sansa"? He asks, almost in a whisper.

Jon didn't think that Sansa's beautifully flushed cheeks could become anymore inflamed, but he was proved wrong as he watched her blush turn deeper in the most endearing manner.

"The same thing I've always wanted - except altered slightly.... I want a husband but one that is brave and gentle and strong..." Sansa pauses and smiles down at her lap "...and I want babes....many babes....I want to be a mother" she finishes with a wistful grin that Jon finds infectious.

An hour or so passes as they carry on their late evening talk covering all manner of topics, both of them being at ease, merry and warmed by both the fire and the drink. So warm Jon finds, that he is in need of ridding himself of his jerkin. He had just begun to marvel at how he had not been so at ease for quite sometime when Sansa becomes a flash of movement and giggles.

"What's this"? She waves the folded parchment between two fingers. Eyes glinting with playfulness.

Jon is uncharacteristically slow to react as he brings one hand to his now empty breast pocket.

"It's nothing" he says hastily. Sansa obviously not believing him as he swipes unsuccessfully at the air with wide eyes.

"Doesn't look like 'nothing' to me Jon"! She claims, as she bolts from the hearth area and towards her bed, squealing when Jon rises to chase after her somewhat frantically. "It's terribly worn and hidden away.... close to your heart" she stops suddenly, clutching the parchment with both hands to her chest as she turns to face Jon who halts his chase with fear in his eyes. "Is it a love letter"?! Sansa asks with a happy gasp.

"No"! Jon protests, his heart hammering as he watches Sansa begin to unfold the paper. He lunges forward but Sansa playfully dodges him and launches herself upon her bed, still unfolding the parchment.

Without thinking he's atop of her, stretched across her back, scrambling to reach his list as Sansa's long elegant arms hold it just out of reach while she laughs and wriggles beneath him.

"Oh" he hears and he knows he's lost his struggle as her laughter and movement halts. "What is this Jon"?

He presses his forehead between her shoulder blades and let's out a huff of defeat. "It's a list".

"I can see that" she says in a small voice. "My name is on it....Jon....what is it a list of"?

There is silence as Jon's pulse ticks away along with the seconds of thickness in the air. His breath hot on her back as the fire continues to crackle away.

"Jon"?

He looks up and over her shoulder at where her outstretched hands clutch at the list. His list. His list that out of the original nine names, now only showed three that were not crossed off with a scratch of ink.

"Davos supplied me with the list... it's...." he sighed "it's a list of possible marriage matches...for me". He said sounding resigned and worried all at once.

"Oh...I see" Sansa said quietly, but not quietly enough that Jon could not feel the vibrations of her voice through her ribs as he was still pressed against her back. "... and... these ones"? She queried as her finger glided over some of the crossed out names.

"Ladies I have...discounted...for one reason or another".

"Ah"

The air is thick with silence again and Jon can feel the rise and fall of Sansa lungs beneath him. He should get up and off of her, but that would mean looking at her beautiful face, and at this moment in time he's not sure he could stand it - so he stays still, counting her breaths, pinning her to the bed.

"Jon"?

"Mm"?

"My name is not discounted" she stated in a gravelly voice.

"No....its not" he agrees, closing his eyes and gulping. This is not how he had wanted to approach this subject with her.

She says nothing and Jon opens his eyes once more. He looks to the list in her hands, the light from the fire making the area of parchment around her name look smooth and worn where his calloused fingers have traced over it time and time again.

"Jon"?

"Mm"?

"Why did you come to my room tonight"?

Her question was met with silence.

"Was it to discuss...this"? She urged him.

He drops his head back to between her shoulder blades and huffs into her shift ".....yes...".

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just pure sexytime ;)

"Why didn't you mention it"? Sansa asks as she is still pinned to the bed by the weight of Jon.

"Because.....because I was unsure".

"Unsure of what? Whether you wanted me for a bride"?

"No... _Gods no_!... Sansa, I've never been unsure of that" Jon responded quickly to only then realise his revelation with a small intake of breath. He stilled, awaiting a reaction, he felt Sansa, warm beneath him hold her own breath too.

"We could......we could do that couldn't we"? She asked in a quiet cracked voice after a painfully long pause.

Jon swallowed thickly "Aye" he responded hoarsely before clearing his throat and trying once more, this time more clearly "Aye.......but....."

"But"?

"Sansa...could...could you be with me as man and wife... _truly_ "? Sansa turned her head slightly at his question and he was thankful that she did not try face him any more than that small movement.

"Yes" she whispered so quietly that her reply was practically swallowed up by the pop and crackle of the fire in the hearth. Jon was unsure as to whether he had actually heard a response at all.

He was about to ask Sansa to repeat herself when she started to slowly tilt her hips up and down into the mattress causing her rear to rub against him. Jon was so taken aback by her actions that he had no time to stifle his groan loud behind her ear.

"And you?....could you be with me as man and wife?....truly?...and put babes inside me"?

If the friction Sansa was creating with her movements wasn't enough to cause the thickening in his breeches, then her words would have had the exact same effect. She could surely feel him hard against her? Did he really need to respond to her query? He nodded into her back, biting back the urge to roll his own hips into hers. "Oh Gods Sansa" he groaned.

"Jon"?

"Mhm"? He replied behind closed eyelids.

"The other two names you've yet to scratch out"? Her motions slowed a little at her question.

"Contingency" Jon replied without any hesitation.

"Contingency"? Sansa parroted back.

"Aye...if...if you would not have me....I would never force your hand" he breathed. She turns her head and Jon can see that his own breath stirs some of her loose copper tresses, causing them to caress her cheek.

"I would have you Jon" she reaffirms in a voice that sounds soft and strained all at once. Her hips start to move and once again she's is rubbing the swell of her backside against his length.

Jon grunts and although it pains him to say it, he knows he must. "You don't have to...that is....we don't have to do anything tonight... you.... _Oh Seven Hells_ "! He huffs out his last words as Sansa's rhythm picks up speed - if she carries on like this then he's likely to spill in his breeches he thinks as he buries his face into her back once more.

Jon gathers all the strength he has to ignore the base voice in his head that whispers of tearing her shift, nipping at her skin and spreading her legs. He allows himself to grab her hip and settle her motions to a slower, but no less torturous pace.

"Sansa..." he warns "we've both had a fair amount to drink..." he says, giving her the opportunity to pause, the option to stop.

Sansa reaches for his hand - the one that is on top of the furs where he had been reaching out to snatch his list back from her. She laces her fingers with his and then brings it round and underneath herself, urging him to cup her breast.

" _Please Jon_ " she all but whimpers.

Jon can feel a growl build within his gut and threaten to leave his throat as he palms Sansa's breast through her shift, soft, warm and weighty with a rapidly hardening poke of nipple. He can't help but begin to nuzzle the back of Sansa's neck, enjoying the feel of burying his face into her hairline and immersing himself in the scent of her. Before he knows it, Jon's free hand has a grip on her braid as he tugs lightly, angling her head to give him better access to behind her ear and the crook of her jaw to nip and kiss.

Sansa gasps and then moans - Jon feels the rumble of it beneath him. He uses his knees to encourage a rearrangement of their legs, so that his can now slip between Sansa's and his hips begin their own rhythm against her. Sansa angles herself to better feel the rub of him, letting out a whine and dropping her head to her bed. Jon's list flutters to the floor, Sansa busies her hands by gripping the furs instead.

Jon's mind flits between asking Sansa to turn around or perhaps flipping her himself so he can see her pretty face flush under his ministrations when Sansa snakes a hand down her own body and pulls her shift up to her ribs.

Jon begins to caress her newly bared satin skin, leaving promises with the feathery drag of his fingertips. When his hand skims unchallenged from her waist all the way down to her thigh, he comes to the realisation that she is completely bare - save for her bunched shift at her chest. He rises up upon his hands, leaving Sansa to whimper in protest at the loss of his body and the rub of his hips.

Jon sits back on his knees between Sansa's parted legs and softly smooths his hands over the swell of her rounded behind before grasping her cheeks, letting his fingers dig lightly into her milky flesh.

Sansa giggles and peers at him over her shoulder. "You have too many clothes on my King" she teases with a mock pout.

Jon nods dumbly and stands to try and rid himself of his clothes as quickly as humanly possible. It's while he is distracted by his own fumbling with his buckles and lacings that he hears a moan radiate from Sansa's throat.

Jon is sure he must look an absolute fool, bare-chested with loosened breeches, stood still stunned, wide eyed and slack jawed at the sight before him.

Sansa groans again as her hand has slipped down and beneath her where Jon has a perfect view of her fingers between her parted thighs. She has curved her hips -perhaps to give herself better access, perhaps to give Jon more to see as she rubs at her flesh and pushes inside herself.

"Are you just going to stand there and watch Jon? I think I may need a bit of help" Sansa purrs back at him.

" _Gods_ "! Jon whispers before he quickly descends upon her, breeches and smallclothes pushed only down to the middle of his thighs in his haste. Her hand is then replaced by his cock, rubbing at her sensitive flesh and quickly becoming coated in her slickness. His breathing is unsteady on the back of her neck through parted lips.

Slowly Jon sinks into her and the growl he had managed to hold back so far escapes. Sansa meets his noise of pleasure with a satisfied mewl of her own.

 _This is not a very tender way of showing your love for her you fool_. Jon thinks, as his brow is pressed into the back of her head, one hand roams her chest, stroking her teats while the other is looped under her arm and grips her shoulder, keeping her body from jostling with his movements, increasing the intensity of his thrusts. Sansa doesn't seem to complain though - in fact, if her cries of encouragement and the way she balls the furs up in the fists are any indication, she's enjoying Jon's efforts.

Jon alternates between chanting her name against Sansa's skin and biting down on her shift, trying to hold back his quickly approaching peak as the room is filled with grunts and moans and slaps of flesh.

"Touch yourself again" he demands, knowing that he'll not last much longer and wanting to feel her quiver around him. Sansa obliges and makes a low pleasured hum.

"Sansa.....I'm going to....can I"? Is all he can force out between gritted teeth trying to hold back his peak.

"Yes Jon....inside me" Sansa replies and somehow manages to make the words sound like the filthiest thing to reach Jon's ears. There's no time at all between her comment and Jon loosing himself in her - pulsing and cursing and panting with unsteady thrusts and guttural grunts.

Sansa follows with her own coming apart beneath him not long after, Jon trying to help with shallow thrusts even though he's utterly spent and practically collapsed atop of her.

"I'm sorry" he tells her shoulder after a while of heavy breathing.

"For what"? Sansa queries.

"That....that wasn't making love.... that was...."

"Fucking"? She supplies, her head turning into him.

"Yes" he breathes.

Sansa is quiet for a while before asking "can we not enjoy both activities"? Ending her question with a laugh and a wiggle of her bottom below him.

Jon can't help but laugh with her as relief floods his tired body. "Aye....whatever my wife wants".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys - this chapter feels a little rushed but I've got a busy week ahead of me and I can't seem me posting anything else for a little while so wanted to get this fic down and dusted - I hope you still enjoyed it though!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!!
> 
> Look - the next chapter will earn the E rating of this fic - I promise! Anyway - he's already got her pinned to the bed so we're not far off are we? *waggles eyebrows*


End file.
